This was inevitable.
B and I are both from the same small town. We didn’t know each other growing up, because I am older than him. But our paths crossed, we worked at the same supermarket in high school, my roommate was his roommates best friend, etc. We met at the wedding of his best friend and a good friend of mine. (Now divorced, which a weird space-time continuum thing, but that is for another day.)
Our babymama is also from our small town.
If you too are from a small town, you see the rub: once the word got back to said town, it would spread and take on a life of it’s own. Not helping this situation is that our babymama, at one point, had a reputation for being a bit of wild child, smoking and drinking and . . . GASP! not being ashamed of it.
So we were trick or treating with some friends of ours, and she was going to be there later, and someone who knows about the surrogacy asked if she was pregnant, and before I could even stop it, one of the guys (who doesn’t know about the surrogate situation) said, “Oh, she is pregnant again? Shocking. Who is the dad? Let me guess, she doesn’t know? Is it going to come out with a drink in it’s hand?”
Before I even go any farther let me tell you about my babymama today, years after her wild days: she is a single mother of two children, both by the same father*, owns a house, works full time, recycles avidly, goes to church every Sunday and has the heart capacity to to carry my baby for me. Am I defensive of her? Absolutely. File that under: NO SHIT.
* I only add the “both by the same father” part because the dillsmack on Halloween insinuated that she didn’t know who the father was, which was stupid on top of a stupid sundae.
I just didn’t even know what to say. Or how to stop it. Someone else said, actually, it’s a baby for Lindsey & B, and then a silence followed, and then he still wouldn’t stop. He said, “Wait a second! So your baby is going to be getting poked in the head by her boyfriend for nine months?” WHO SAYS THAT?
I kept just trying to walk away (and curse B for missing trick or treating this year) and make it stop. I don’t even remember the other comments, but I finally turned around and told him that if he didn’t stop talking about my babymama like that I was going to junk punch him. He could tell I was serious, and that was the end of that, but I was reeling all night.
Here is what I’ve come up with:
1. Maybe he was drinking?
2. This is the inherent problem with a small town. Once someone has been labeled a certain way, it never really leaves.
3. I should definitely find different people to trick or treat with by the time I do have a little one.
4. Also: maybe he is just an idiot? That was drunk?